I have cooked myself a meal, showered, cleaned my room, taken out the trash, payed my bills, dicked around, professionally, on the Internet, and fed and played with my cat in the last few hours since I finished with work. What in God's name possessed me to spend my precious leisure time in such a tedious way, I have very little idea at all. I suppose the idea is that if I were sitting, hungry and dirty, in a messy room with an overflowing trash can, unpaid bills, and an un- or unprofessionally-dicked-around-on Internet with a bored, angry feline for companionship, I would be in less of a fit state to properly enjoy my leisure time than I am at present. But with bedtime on the horizon in about T-minus-five-minutes, you will doubtless see the Catch-22 inherent in such logic.
Monday, May 21, 2007
It's that awkward time of day when I really ought t0 just pack it in and go to bed, but I have this feeling that I need to Live My Life somehow, in these few moments I have to myself. After having worked all day, then socialized with people, which is like work except more stressful. So here I am, beer in hand, Living My Life, which if the last 20 minutes is anything to go by, involves trawling the Internet for traces of myself—gmail, MySpace, Digg—the usual suspects; kind of like socializing with people except less work.
Oh, Internet, we are such strange bedfellows, you and I. You are a generous lover, but not a gentle one. I'm not entirely sure I like you very much.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Where to begin? I'm sitting at my computer, peering over the top of the monitor onto a beautiful day that I really ought to be out in, but I'm having to be very careful not to move too much, on account of the nasty tummy ache that I anticipate (nay, that I deserve) as a result of some well-intentioned but ill-advised alcoholic endeavours yesterday evening.
Normally, at a time like this, I would go for a coffee, but where I live there are two competing coffee shops on opposite sides of the road, one with nicer coffee, the other with nicer baristas, and the prospect of making an existential choice of that magnitude in my emotionally fragile state (what do I value more—social or material goods?) is daunting to the point of being paralyzing this morning.
Nonetheless, something must be done, lest, coffeeless, my day spirals yet further downward into, well, whatever it is that days spiral into when they're going downhill. Wish me luck and Godspeed. If fate is on my side this Sunday, I will return home shortly with a latte.